Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Seven

Astrath Triple Moon sends me a message apologising for his non-appearance at the Assemblage, claiming illness. The message ends with the brief sentence, Paper came from Hanama.

I mull this over with my morning beer. Astrath has good powers of sorcerous investigation and his results can generally be trusted. My hunch was correct. It was Hanama who warned Lisutaris about Covinius. This means I’ll have to talk to her. Talking to Assassins is never something I enjoy doing.

I finish my beer, warm up my cloak and set off through the snow for the Assemblage. Once there I nose around for a while, check that Makri is looking after Lisutaris’s back, then get round to drinking with Irith and his companions. In the rooms and corridors of the Royal Hall, the electioneering is gathering pace. So far I’ve had little involvement in the machinations of Tilupasis, although she does ask me to escort young Sulinius to a secluded location behind the hall.

“He’s carrying a lot of gold and I don’t want him to get robbed.”

The gold buys the votes of four Sorcerers from Carsan. Tilupasis is well satisfied.

“Let the Simnians try to match that.”

“Are they busy with bribery as well?”

“Of course. So are the Abelasians. But they lack the advantage of being at home. I have access to the King’s vaults. We can out-spend them.”

The only other task I’m given is to call in at a local Civil Guard station to bail out two Samsarinans who found themselves in some trouble after an argument at the card table in a tavern. Tilupasis refunds their losses, promises to show them a more hospitable venue for gambling the next night and charms them sufficiently to make some inroads on the Samsarinan delegation. Samsarina have their own candidate, Rokim the Bright, but Tilupasis hopes to persuade them to switch their eighteen votes to Lisutaris if things seem hopeless for their candidate.

“Eighteen second-choice votes,” she says. “At present they’re attached to the Simnian, but I’m hoping we can sway them.”

Tilupasis is proving to be a highly efficient organiser and has boundless energy. Her main worry is Princess Direeva. In a tight contest the thirty Sorcerers under her influence are looking more important than ever, but they’re intending to vote for Darius Cloud Walker, the Abelasian. Direeva has known him for a long time, and trusts him.

“I can’t seem to get to Direeva. Her representative rebuffed a very generous offer. She doesn’t appear to want for anything. She wasn’t interested in gold and she didn’t seem to take to either Visus or Sulinius.”

At least Lisutaris is holding up, just about. Accompanied by Makri, she greets her fellow Sorcerers, quite charmingly from what I can tell, disappearing only occasionally to indulge her need for thazis. So far she has not disgraced Turai by falling over in public. I’ve informed Tilupasis and Cicerius about the possible involvement of a Simnian Assassin. Cicerius is sceptical.

“Palace Security would have notified me if Covinius had entered Turai,” says the Deputy Consul. “I can’t believe that Lisutaris is in danger of being assassinated. The Sorcerers’ election is keenly contested but there has never been an assassination. Who is meant to have hired him?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll check it out as soon as I can.”

Tilupasis promises to discreetly inform the other Turanian Sorcerers of the warning so they can watch out for Lisutaris, just in case the threat turns out to be real. Which, along with Makri, gives her quite a lot of protection. I’ve sent a message to Hanama requesting a meeting, but have had no reply as yet.

I excuse myself from Tilupasis as it seems like a long time since I had a beer. Close to the Room of Saints, I bump into Makri.

“Any trouble?”

Makri shakes her head.

“No trouble.”

At this moment Princess Direeva appears at our side. Ignoring me, she introduces herself to Makri.

“I am Princess Direeva,” she says. “And you are?”

“Makri.”

The Princess nods.

“I thought so. Champion gladiator of all the Orc lands, I believe?”

Princess Direeva is apparently impressed.

“I understand you were undefeated for five years?”

“Six,” says Makri.

“Really? And you once fought a dragon in the arena?”

“I did.”

Direeva seems intrigued. Her extraordinary hair sways gently as she talks, making the gold streaks and glittering beads sparkle in the light. There may be a touch of Orcish blood about the Princess herself. Though only Human Sorcerers can stand for the post of Guild leader, there are various Sorcerers in attendance with Elvish blood in their veins, so I suppose a little Orc isn’t such a surprise. The Sorcerers are not so formal as many of the city’s Guilds. Makri would be bounced right out of a meeting of the goldsmiths, but goldsmiths are always very concerned about etiquette.

I’ve heard Makri bragging about her accomplishments in the arena enough times already, and Princess Direeva shows no interest in talking to me, so I slip off. In the Room of Saints Tilupasis is encouraging some Pargadans to drink more wine. She asks me what Princess Direeva wanted with Makri.

“A friendly chat.”

“Really?”

Tilupasis’s eyes light up.

“Excellent. We may have found something the Princess is interested in.”

I spend the rest of the day drinking with Irith Victorious. He asks me how I’m coping with my official duties.

“It’s all right. Better than rowing a slave galley. It wasn’t like I had anything else planned for the winter.”

One of Irith’s companions teaches me an improved warming spell for my cloak. So now I’m warm and I have plenty of free beer. I’m starting to enjoy this assignment.

The light fades early and I arrive home in darkness. I take care climbing the stairs to my office. I may be full of beer but Thraxas, number one chariot among Turai’s Investigators, has never been known to fall off his own staircase. I’m nearly as happy as a drunken mercenary. These Sorcerers from Juval know how to enjoy themselves. Maybe I should move down there. Be better than this lousy city.

“Better than this lousy city!” I yell into the darkness. There’s no one around and I take the opportunity to bellow the last verse of an old army drinking song before entering my office in a cheerful manner and finding Makri, Lisutaris and Princess Direeva all unconscious on the floor. Darius Cloud Walker is lying dead beside them with a knife in his back. I blink. It isn’t a sight I was expecting.

The sheer awfulness of the situation almost paralyses me. The room stinks of dwa and thazis. I’m full of beer. I can’t cope with a dead Sorcerer. I’m still trying to take it in when there’s a knock on the door and a voice I recognise shouts my name.

“Thraxas. We want to talk to you.”

It’s Karlox, an enforcer for the Brotherhood. I mutter a foul curse at Makri for landing me in this situation. From the look of her face I’d say she’s been indulging in more dwa than she can handle. If the overdose doesn’t kill her I swear I’ll do it myself.

My first thought is to kill Karlox, get on a horse, ride out of town and keep going. The situation is so grim as to defy description. When Cicerius hired me to help Lisutaris he wasn’t expecting me to lure her rivals to my office and have them murdered, which is what this is going to look like. I’m heading for the scaffold in the exotic company of Makri, Lisutaris and Princess Direeva, and that’s going to make a fine story for The Renowned and Truthful Chronicle.

“Open up, Thraxas,” shouts Karlox. “I know you’re in there.”

Karlox may be dumb as an Orc but he’s a loyal member of the Brotherhood, not the sort of man to give in easily. I’ve a shrewd idea he’s here investigating the recent death of their dwa dealer, and that’s a big enough problem in itself. Makri killed him and at this moment she’s unconscious at my feet and there’s an important Sorcerer dead on the floor. It would be easy to panic.

I’m not a man to panic. I remain silent and quickly weigh up the situation. I doubt that Karlox is here alone. He knows he couldn’t get the better of me without help. If he’s here with a gang, he’ll be able to break down the door, minor locking spell or not. The one thing I can’t afford to happen is for any witnesses to see Darius lying alongside Makri. Particularly as it’s Makri’s knife that’s sticking in his back.

If I move the body I’ll be in endless difficulties later. If I don’t move it I’ll be in endless difficulties right now. Karlox beats on the door and I can hear him giving orders to start breaking it down. I hoist the unfortunate Darius over my shoulder and stagger to the inner door. Darius doesn’t weigh that much. The shock of these events has sobered me up just enough not to fall and break my neck as I make my way down the stairs and through to the back of the tavern. To my surprise, Gurd and Tanrose are still about, making preparations for tomorrow’s food.

“What—?”

“Can’t stop. Go upstairs and look after Makri till I get back. The Brotherhood are about to break the door down.”

Gurd picks up his axe and they depart swiftly. I carry on through to the yard. Ideally I’d like to dump the body as far away as possible, but I can’t risk being seen from the front of the tavern so I can think of nothing better to do than heave the body over the wall into the next yard. It’s a high wall and I’m panting with the exertion. The snow billows around me, muffling any sound.

I pray that no one has seen my actions. Not that it will matter in a day or two, when the Sorcerers’ companions start working their spells, looking for Darius. I’ve just committed a serious crime and I’ve no idea how I’m going to escape the consequences. Without pausing to catch my breath I hurry back upstairs to find Gurd and Tanrose confronting Karlox and six companions. They’ve forced the door, breaking the lock.

Gurd is outraged at the damage to his property, but the Brotherhood men are more interested in the sight of Makri, Lisutaris and Princess Direeva lying on the floor. My room is still thick with thazis smoke and reeks of burnt dwa.

“Been having a party?” rasps Karlox.

I unsheathe my sword and stand beside Gurd. With his axe in his hand the old Barbarian is still a formidable sight.

“Time to leave,” I say.

“Where did you get the dwa?” says Karlox, which is quite a shrewd question for such a stupid guy.

I’m not planning on giving him an answer, though it’s a question I’ll certainly be putting to Makri. I tell Karlox brusquely that he’s got about ten seconds to leave my office or suffer the consequences. He eyes my blade, and Gurd’s axe.

“Why so upset, fat man? We’re just asking a few polite questions about the death of one of our men. You got something to hide? Or are you just wanting some time alone with the doped girls?”

His men guffaw.

“You’ve given me plenty to report,” says Karlox. With that he turns and strides out of the room, followed by his men. I immediately shut the door and place my locking spell on it, for all the good that will do.

“What’s going on?” asks Gurd, but I’m already bending down over Makri. I’m mad as hell at the woman but I don’t want her to expire from dwa. She’s completely inexperienced in its use. Or I thought she was.

Lesada leaves, from the Elvish Isles, serve me mainly as hangover cures but I’ve seen an Elvish healer use them to bring a person out of a dwa trance. I crush a couple in some water and pour some down Makri’s throat. She coughs, sits up and looks around her curiously.

“What’s happening?” she says.

“A good question.”

She looks round the room. I ask her if she notices anything missing.

“Like what?”

“Like a Sorcerer maybe?”

“Right. Darius. Where is he?”

“He’s lying in a snowdrift in the next yard. Did you kill him?”

Makri looks puzzled.

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“Who knows? But when I got here Darius was dead on the floor and your knife was still sticking in his back. The Brotherhood arrived and I had to hide the body. If we don’t move fast we’re all heading for a swift execution. So help me wake up these two and tell me what’s been going on.”

Gurd and Tanrose want to stay and help but I banish them from the room. The less they’re involved the better. I set about trying to revive Princess Direeva, while Makri gets to work on Lisutaris.

“What were you thinking of, taking dwa? You know what happened to Minarixa.”

Makri shrugs.

“I was depressed.”

I don’t have time to be outraged. Makri tells me that after the Assemblage ended Lisutaris said she didn’t want to go back to Thamlin. “She said she’d show Princess Direeva the bad part of town. Direeva seemed keen to accompany us.”

“Why did you bring Darius?”

“He just sort of tagged along. I think he liked Direeva.”

Lisutaris and Direeva come slowly back to consciousness, aided by Lesada leaves and deat, a foul herbal drink traditionally taken to sober up. They’re both confused and don’t yet realise the urgency of the situation.

“I need to sleep,” says Lisutaris.

“You need to sleep? You’ll be going for a very long sleep if we don’t do something about this. As soon as Darius is missed, his Sorcerer buddies will start scanning the city for him. They’ll locate his body soon enough. And when they do they’ll start looking back in time to find out what happened. That might take days or weeks but they’ll succeed in the end. Thanks to you invading my office I’m now involved in this disaster, and if we ever get out of it, next time you want to take dwa and hang around with dead guys, stay well away from me.”

“Yes, fine, it’s an aggravating situation,” says Lisutaris, coldly. “But you ranting isn’t going to help. What are we going to do?”

“Firstly you could tell me who killed Darius Cloud Walker.”

Everyone looks blank. All three claim that he was still alive last time they could remember.

“So someone just waited till you’d conveniently all drugged yourselves into a stupor then snuck into my office and used Makri’s knife to kill him? The Civil Guards are going to love that story.”

“Did you examine the body?” asks Lisutaris.

“Of course not. The Brotherhood were breaking the door down.”

We fall silent. The tale of a mysterious stranger isn’t impressing anyone here. It’s not going to impress the Sorcerers Guild or the Turanian authorities.

“Why did you leave the Assemblage without telling me?”

“You were having such a good time with the Juvalian Sorcerers, that’s why,” says Makri.

“Indeed,” says Princess Direeva. “Such a good time that I do not see how you can criticise others for their pleasures.”

“My pleasures didn’t involve a dead Sorcerer who was second favourite for head of the Guild. Congratulations, Lisutaris, you just lost a rival. Which makes you a pretty good suspect. Anyway, we’ve sat here talking long enough, it’s time to do something.”

“Why must you do anything?” enquires Direeva. As she sits on the couch her hair trails on the floor. It must be inconvenient on occasion.

“To save my own skin.”

I’m mostly concerned about Makri but I’m not about to say that. And lingering at the back of my mind in an annoying manner is the thought that if I’m to help Lisutaris win the election, which I was hired to do, I can’t let her be involved in any of this. Keeping her out of it is not going to be easy, but I never give up on a client.

“Lisutaris, can you put some sort of sorcerous shield over the night’s events? Cover everything so it can’t be looked at?”

The Mistress of the Sky considers this. I know she’s aching for some thazis. If she lights another stick I’ll be tempted to slug her.

“Probably, for a while. I’ve hidden events before. But if the whole Sorcerers Guild starts looking I’m not going to be able to shut them out for long. Even on his own, Old Hasius the Brilliant would get through eventually.”

“I too have hidden events,” says Princess Direeva. “I will add my powers to yours.”

“That will buy us some time. Meanwhile I’ll try and find out who killed Darius. That doesn’t get us off the hook, seeing as we’re concealing a crime, but it will help. If I can find proof against the killer we might be able to divert attention from any of you being involved.”

“How do you know we weren’t?” asks Direeva.

The young Princess doesn’t seem to be treating this as seriously as she should. Possibly she feels that if she finds herself in trouble she can always claim diplomatic immunity and ride back to the Wastelands. Maybe she’s right, but that’s not going to help anyone else.

“I don’t. You’re all suspects. I’m just hoping I can find a better one.”

I rise to my feet.

“Get busy on the spell. I’m going to move the body further away. Even without sorcerous help the Civil Guard aren’t fools. If they find Darius lying dead right next to the Avenging Axe they’ll know for sure I had something to do with it and that will lead back to you. And whatever you do, don’t get stoned again, it will lead to disaster.”

I pause at the door and turn to Makri.

“Where did you get the dwa?”

“I stole it from the dealer.”

“Very moral behaviour. At least he was selling it at a fair price.”

Outside it’s bitterly cold. I haven’t had time to recharge my warm cloak. Snow is falling in thick sheets and there’s not a soul in sight. It takes me a while to get a horse saddled up and fitted on to a wagon, and longer to retrieve the now frozen body of Darius. I sling it in the cart, cover it with a blanket and set off. My mood is grim. It wasn’t helped by the difficulty I had removing Makri’s knife from the corpse.

The Sorcerers Guild is not going to give up easily on this one. It might take them one day or three months but I have no doubt that some time in the future they will be staring at a picture of me riding in a cart with Darius’s body. That’s going to be hard to explain and it’s not going to do much for Lisutaris’s chances in the election.

Almost worse is the realisation that I’m going to have to report all this to Cicerius. He’s my client. I’ve withheld information from Cicerius before but there is no way I can keep this from him. For all I know the death of the Abelasian Sorcerer might lead Turai into war. I can’t let that happen without warning the Deputy Consul. I dread to think what the man is going to say, and try as I might, I can’t think of a means of explaining the situation that doesn’t put me in a bad light. Thinking it over while I’m looking for a suitable snowdrift in which to dump Darius, I don’t come up with anything I like.

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