Thraxas and the Sorcerers

Chapter Twelve

Honest Mox’s bookmaking establishment is closed for the first time in living memory. The gambling fraternity of Twelve Seas are stunned. I’m standing outside in the snow with about twenty others, looking forlornly at the locked front door.

“What happened?”

“His son just died. From dwa.”

The frustrated gamblers shake their heads. It’s almost too bad to contemplate. We never thought we’d see the day when Mox had to close. There’s a general feeling that if we can make our way here through the bad weather, Mox ought to at least be able to keep his shop open.

People start drifting away, heading north towards the next bookmaker. It’s a frustrating occurrence. I was planning to lay off a little money on Ramius. As Lisutaris is likely to be slung out of the competition I really wanted to cover my losses with another bet. I’ve no time to visit another bookmaker. I need to see Coralex in a hurry. I curse. This job just gets worse and worse.

The wind howls down from the north. By the time I reach Coralex’s house in Golden Crescent, home of the richest merchants, I’m about as angry as a Troll with a toothache. The servant who answers the door tries to keep me out and I just walk over him. They don’t build many domestic servants that can stand up to me. Another functionary attempts to hold me back and I bat him out of the way. Coralex appears at the top of the stairs. I’ve encountered him before in the course of my work, though I’ve never invaded his home before. I march up the stairs and grab him by the throat.

“Coralex. I’m in a hurry. You got some dragon scales recently from a crooked merchant named Rezox. I want to know who you sold them to.”

“Throw this man out of the house,” yells Coralex.

An employee hurries into view, a more formidable specimen than the domestic servants. He’s tall and he carries a sword. I slam Coralex into him then grab him by the scruff of the neck and tumble him downstairs.

I turn back to Coralex.

“As I was saying. What happened to the dragon scales? Stop stammering, I don’t have time. I’m here with the backing of Deputy Consul Cicerius, and if I have to toss you downstairs, the Deputy will move Heaven, Earth and the three moons to see I don’t get prosecuted. He’s already very upset by what he just learned about you.”

The merchant hesitates. I touch my dagger.

“Spill it.”

Coralex spills it. At his age, he isn’t going to get off lightly from a trip down the stairs. A man of his wealth naturally has a very long staircase.

I leave the house with a lot of information, and curses raining down on me from Coralex, his wife, and a very pretty daughter who probably doesn’t know that her father deals in stolen goods. Outside the snow catches me in the face. I shake it off. Now that I’ve really offended someone, I feel like I’m working well. I have a list of the people who’ve recently bought dragon scales, and as these are not easy to come by there’s a good chance that the mysterious spell-worker will be among them.

Back in Twelve Seas I buy a bundle of logs from a street vendor, stoke up the fire, open a beer and prepare to study the list. I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. I wrench it open and am surprised to find Senator Lodius, leader of the opposition party in Turai and sworn enemy of Cicerius. I’ve never spoken to Lodius. He did once violently denounce me to the Senate after I’d run into some trouble while working for Cicerius. The Chronicle ran a full report, listing many of my previous misdemeanours.

“Are you busy?” he enquires, politely.

The Senator is a man of medium height, about fifty or so but well preserved. He has something of an aristocratic air, though he styles himself leader of the democratic Populares party. He’s not particularly imposing in appearance but he’s handsome enough for a political leader, with blue eyes, short grey hair neatly styled and a well-cut toga just visible under a thick woollen cloak. He’s a powerful speaker when he has to be and he has a lot of support in this city.

“I’m busy. But come in anyway.”

I don’t know why he’s here. Lodius is far too important to be visiting me. I’ve never liked the man—he always gives me the impression of a politician who’d hitch his wagon to any cause which might bring him to power—but if he’s here to offer me some lucrative work I might be prepared to change my opinion.

The Senator is accompanied by two assistants, or bodyguards more likely, as Turanian politics is inclined to be violent. I kick some junk under the table, draw out a chair and motion the Senator to take a seat. Surprisingly, he accepts my offer of beer. He takes the bottle, doesn’t mind that I don’t have any goblets to hand, and gets right down to business.

“I understand you are busy, at the Sorcerers Assemblage?”

At the mention of the Assemblage I’m immediately on my guard.

“I wish you success,” he says. “It will be a fine thing for the city if our candidate is elected.”

I’m expecting Lodius to start in with some criticism of Cicerius and the Traditionals, but that doesn’t seem to be what he’s here for.

“I am hoping, however, that you will have time to perform another function. Have you heard of the impending demolition of the buildings around the collapsed aqueduct?”

“Yes.”

“Are you aware that the proposal to clear the area will make four hundred Turanians homeless?”

I wasn’t, though the way landlords crowd people into the slums, it’s not really a surprise.

“Praetor Capatius wishes to develop the land for profit,” continues Lodius. “As the richest man in the city and a strong supporter of the Traditionals, the Praetor has of course no regard for the rights of the ordinary citizen.”

By this time I’m eyeing the Senator warily. I don’t like where this is going.

“Are you aware of your powers as Tribune of the People?”

“I’ve a rough idea.”

The Senator nods. Then he asks me what I’m planning to do.

“I wasn’t planning to do anything.”

“Surely you do not wish to see these people made homeless, particularly in the middle of such a fierce winter?”

“I’d sooner they were warm and cosy. But I’m not really a Tribune. I was only given the post so I could get into the Assemblage.”

“Nonetheless, you have the power. Are you afraid that Cicerius would disapprove of you acting against his friend Capatius?”

“Not particularly. I just don’t see myself as a politician. And I’m busy.”

“Too busy to help your fellow citizens?”

If there’s one thing you can be sure of it’s that Lodius doesn’t care about his fellow citizens either, but I don’t seem to have the opportunity to point this out. He’s backing me into an awkward corner.

“Yes. I’m too busy. I’m already helping Turai by assisting Lisutaris. I can’t be rescuing the whole city. You’re head of a political party, why don’t you stop the evictions?”

“I don’t have the power. By some quirk of history, only the Tribunes can do that. A Tribune can insist that every legal step is followed to the letter in the matter of city development. Naturally, that was not what Cicerius had in mind when he nominated you, but the fact remains that you can prevent the eviction by referring the matter to the Senate. Once that has been done, I will take over.”

“Would this have anything to do with you needing four hundred votes in a vital ward that has an election next year?”

“I am concerned only with the plight of the poor.”

We stare at each other for a while. I’m wondering what pressure Lodius can bring to bear. While I don’t relish having him as a political enemy, Cicerius and the Traditionals still have more power. The Consul, Turai’s highest official, is always a Traditional, and they’re the party of the King. The last thing I want to do is end up an enemy of the King. The whole thing is extremely aggravating for a man who tries to stay out of politics. I inform the Senator that, sad as I am to see hardship among my fellow citizens, I’m not about to enter the political arena by vetoing Praetor Capatius. Senator Lodius sips his beer, and turns to speak to one of his assistants.

“Ivitius. Tell me again what you saw when you were visiting your cousin in Quintessence Street.”

“Thraxas the Investigator dumping a body over a wall,” says Ivitius.

“And what night was that?”

“The same night Darius Cloud Walker was killed.”

Lodius turns back to me.

“A very troubling affair, as you know. I understand that the Sorcerers Guild is currently extending its full powers in an effort to find out what happened to Darius Cloud Walker. But from what I hear, someone has cast a mystical shield over the events of the night in question. The Sorcerers are baffled, at least for the moment. Of course, they are lacking specific information. All they know is that the body was found in a snowdrift in Twelve Seas. If they had more facts—for instance, the exact location of the killing, and the identity of those around the victim at the time—I have no doubt that they could quickly learn the truth concerning his death.”

I can’t think of anything to say. I’m all out of words.

“My carriage is outside,” says the Senator. “I will take you to the site of the eviction. Nothing formal in the way of documentation is required. It is merely necessary for you to speak to the person in charge, one Vadinex, an employee of Capatius’s. Tell him that you are referring the matter to the Senate. Work will then cease, pending investigation.”

I still can’t think of anything to say. I get my cloak. We ride in silence along Quintessence Street. The snow and ice are thick on the ground, but Lodius has a sturdy carriage pulled by two equally sturdy horses and we reach the site of the eviction a lot quicker than I’d like to. The snow is falling on a dismal scene of workmen, city officials, lawyers, civil guards and poor tenants, all arguing bitterly. Despite the cold, violence is in the air as the Civil Guards hold back the crowd. Some of the slum dwellers scream from upstairs windows, aiming their anger at Vadinex, the man in charge.

I knew Vadinex in my army days. He stands about six and a half feet tall and he’s built like a bull. Once at a siege he won a commendation for being the first man over the wall. Praetor Capatius uses him for difficult assignments, and evicting a few poor tenants is all in a day’s work for him.

I really don’t want to be doing this. I notice Captain Rallee among the guards, and make my way towards him. Before I get there, a figure bursts through the crowd brandishing an axe. It’s Makri, clad in a thick cloak and her floppy hat, and bristling with weapons.

“You’re not going to evict Samanatius,” she yells.

An elderly figure in a plain cloak, presumably the philosopher himself, steps forward through the blizzard to lay his hand on her shoulder, indicating I think that he doesn’t wish to see violence done. Vadinex confronts her, flanked by his helpers. Makri raises her axe. I step forward.

“Stop!” I yell.

I have a loud voice when necessary, and a lot of bulk. It’s hard to miss me, even in a snowstorm.

“I’m halting this work. As Tribune of the People, I am referring the matter to the Senate.”

There is general astonishment. Captain Rallee actually laughs. Vadinex doesn’t seem so amused.

“What the hell are you talking about, Thraxas? Get out of my way.”

Various others now step forward in support of my statement. Several cold-looking lawyers, accompanied by armed men, courtesy of Lodius, announce that the eviction cannot now go ahead.

“The Tribune has spoken.”

Everyone looks at me. I feel foolish. Senator Lodius has now stepped into the fray. As people recognise him they realise that this is not a joke. Captain Rallee addresses Vadinex.

“It’s legal,” he says. “The matter has to go to the Senate. You can’t carry out the eviction.”

Vadinex starts to protest but Captain Rallee cuts him short.

“I said it’s legal. And if you keep me standing here in this snowstorm any longer, I’m liable to throw you in prison for assaulting a Civil Guard. Eviction over. Everybody go home.”

Vadinex eyes me with loathing.

“The Praetor will be down on you like a bad spell for this,” he growls.

Makri hurries over.

“Stay away or I’ll kill you,” she spits at him.

Vadinex always had a short temper. Were the area not so thick with Civil Guards, he’d quite likely attack her. I’d like to see Makri killing Vadinex. The way the huge man looks at her before he departs, she may yet get the chance. He moves off, taking his companions with him.

“Thraxas, you were great!” enthuses Makri. “I knew you’d come through in the end. Come and meet Samanatius!”

I shake the elderly philosopher’s hand. He thanks me warmly, but when he looks into my eyes I know he knows I’m not here of my own free will. All around, tenants of the slums are congratulating me for rescuing them from Vadinex.

“Good work,” booms Senator Lodius, and gets round to letting everyone know that he is the man responsible for their salvation. The congratulations fail to give me a warm glow. Makri might be as happy as an Elf in a tree that Samanatius has a reprieve, but I’ve got other things to worry about.

“Where’s Lisutaris? You’re meant to be protecting her.”

Makri tells me she’s asleep in her room at the Avenging Axe. Direeva is with her.

I frown.

“I’m starting to get suspicious of Direeva. I don’t like the way she keeps sticking to Lisutaris.”

“Tilupasis likes it. Tilupasis seems to have a lot of influence, even with the Consul.”

“She ought to. They’re having an affair. Well, according to scurrilous rumour anyway, and I generally trust that. Do a good job for Tilupasis and she might help with the university.”

“I already thought of that.”

I ask Makri if Tilupasis is a supporter of the Association of Gentlewomen, but Makri doesn’t think she is, which strikes her as odd.

“Maybe she thinks she’s doing fine already,” I suggest.

Makri isn’t enjoying her employment as bodyguard.

“I expected I might have to kill the occasional attacker and maybe fight off a few Assassins. I never thought it would involve being nursemaid to a woman who can’t stand upright after lunchtime. What were you thinking of, nominating her for head of the Sorcerers Guild?”

“I didn’t nominate her. Cicerius did. Is she still going at the water pipe?”

“Like a hungry dragon chewing on a carcass. How does she ever remember any spells? I mean, you can’t remember them even when you’re sober.”

“She studied more than me.”

“It was hell at the Assemblage. I had to keep dragging her away from visiting Sorcerers so they wouldn’t see how doped she was. Isn’t she meant to be impressing people?”

Despite her recent lapses, Makri does have something of a puritanical streak, which now appears to be resurfacing. She thinks that people should get on with their work, and Lisutaris is certainly failing to do this. I agree that Lisutaris can’t be impressing the Sorcerers with her performance.

“The delegation from Turai are doing their best. The other two Tribunes have been spreading hospitality around to the extent that some of our guests are now so sated with sex, alcohol and dwa that they’d vote for anyone they were told to. It’s not going to be enough to defeat Ramius in the vote, but remember, our candidate only has to make it into the top two.”

“But those two go into some sort of final contest,” Makri points out. “How is Lisutaris going to manage that?”

“Who knows? It wouldn’t surprise me if Tilupasis is working on some way of cheating right now.”

At the Avenging Axe, Makri goes to check on Lisutaris. I’ve barely time to load up with stew, venison and yams before I’m back at work, studying the list of recipients of dragon scales. It’s an interesting collection, containing the names of quite a few aristocratic Turanians. These rich ladies like to make their hair sparkle with dragon scales, but it seems as if they prefer to buy them at a discount, even if it’s illegal. Coralex and Rezox were doing a good trade. Clients include Praetor Capatius, Prefect Galwinius, several other Senators and various high-up city officials. Rich merchants too, including, I note, Rixad. I’m not surprised. He was keen to keep his wife happy, and nothing says I love you better than a sprinkling of well-cut dragon scales.

Unfortunately, few people on the list have any knowledge of sorcery. I can’t see Capatius or Galwinius huddled over a cauldron, cooking up a magical brew. The name of Tirini Snake Smiter catches my eye. She might be buying dragon scales for making spells. She is a Sorcerer. But she’s also a woman who loves to display herself to her best advantage, and I’m inclined to believe she wanted to make her hair sparkle rather than work some malevolent spell. Tirini would be an unlikely murderer. She never dabbles in politics, or crime, to my knowledge, being more concerned with party-going, temporary romances and generally enjoying herself. She has a lot of power, but the most notable thing she’s done with it recently is light up the trees in her garden in a fantastic display for a reception she held. The Renowned and Truthful Chronicle was impressed. They liked the fireworks too. I don’t see her as a murderer.

The only other name of note is Princess Direeva. Direeva has recently bought dragon scales from Coralex. I muse on this. In my eyes Direeva is already a suspect for the murder of Darius. No known motive but plenty of opportunity. And now it turns out that she’s been clandestinely buying the main ingredient for a hitherto unknown spell of erasement.

Unfortunately Direeva also wears beads made from dragon scales in her hair. If I confront her she’ll simply say she needed some new jewellery. She does have a lot of hair to decorate.

I need a drink. After a lifetime as a private citizen, suddenly being obliged to act in an official capacity has unnerved me. I’m grateful it’s midwinter. People have enough problems worrying about staying alive without paying too much attention to the startling sight of Thraxas suddenly appearing as a minor politician. With any luck it will soon be forgotten about. It had better be, I’m not planning on defending anyone else’s rights.

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